


Fancy Patter on the Telephone

by HotCrossPigeon



Series: Stories to brighten up your day [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Aziraphale Collects Tea Towels, Aziraphale Hosts A Pub Quiz Over The Telephone, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bastard!Aziraphale, Bickering, Bubble Bath, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is not amused, Crowley’s bad haircuts, Dialogue-Only, Drunken Shenanigans, Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Humour, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Nudity, Old Married Couple, Pining, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pub Quiz, Questionable Rubber Duck, Rivalry, Sassy Aziraphale (Good Omens), Smiting Inanimate Objects, Snogging, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Soufflés, Teasing, Tickle Fights, aziraphale is a tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotCrossPigeon/pseuds/HotCrossPigeon
Summary: A series of telephone conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley during the Lockdown.They get steadily more desperate and ridiculous as the weeks go on.Featuring a moping demon, a teasing angel, a pub quiz, an explosion, extraordinary amounts of alcohol, a bubble bath, awkward flirting, several love confessions... and an ill-conceived bet on who can last the longest without seeing the other.What could possibly go wrong?BONUS CHAPTER ADDED
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Stories to brighten up your day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771381
Comments: 504
Kudos: 840





	1. Loved Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nnnggghhhhhh, the Lockdown video has tempted me out of hiding. 
> 
> Hello :)
> 
> Something a little different from the usual, hope you don’t mind. Just a very silly little story to cheer myself up, and hopefully make you laugh too :D

_“ - know what to do, do it with style.”_

_Beeeeeeeeeeep._

  
  
“Crowley? ... Are you awake? Oh no - dear me - am I being recorded on that confounded contraption of yours? Oh, blast... I knew I should have... absolutely _ridiculous_ to think... Hullo! I say! Can you hear me? Hullo? Hullo? Are you there? Oh dear, I do hope I haven’t missed you -”

“ _WOT._ ”

“Oh! Crowley, there you are! _Hello!_ ”

“Angel. Fcksssssake. S’four’n’the’mrnin.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said. It’s four. In the morning.”

“Is it? Oh, yes, would you look at that. So, it is! My, how the time flies when one’s having fun!”

“Fffnp.”

“I’ll take that articulate sound to mean that you’re exceedingly pleased to hear from me.”

“Aziraphale.”

“Yes?”

“Did you have a reason for calling me at four in the morning?”

“Well, I thought that I would just check in to see how you were coping. It’s the done thing, or so I’ve heard tell on the wireless.”

“You called me just last week.”

“Yes, I did. However, _apparently_ people are utilising their inter-web-camera-telephones, and something called - oh, what was it - the _zoomies_ \- to stay in touch with their loved ones on a regular basis. It’s a sort of _weekly arrangement_ thing - and so I thought to myself, aha! That sounds jolly good fun! And, as you know, I have in my possession a perfectly serviceable telephone, no need for any modern newfangled nonsense. And I thought, well, it might be an excellent way of passing the time, along with my culinary exploits. So, here I am, checking in. Regularly. On the regular, as it were. So. How are you, my dear?”

“... It’s four o’clock in the morning. How the _hell_ do you _think_ I am?”

“Oh. Oh, I’m... I’m terribly sorry for disturbing you, were you... ah... asleep, then?”

“Of _course_ I was asleep, it’s _four o’clock in the bloody morning!_ ”

“There’s no need to take that tone with me. I was merely checking to see that you were still of sound mind, and hadn’t resorted to anything drastic in order to deal with your boredom. I know how you can get. It would be _just_ like you to use this opportunity to shave your head, or dye your eyebrows an obnoxious colour, or something equally unwise. You always were the one to go along with the latest trends. Need I remind you what happened in the spring of ‘83?”

“No, no you don’t need to bloody remind me, I was _there._ And you said you’d never mention it again.”

“Humph. Well, I only mention it in the hopes that it might prevent a repeat offence. Really, my dear, those ghastly -”

“Yes, _yes,_ all _right,_ fine! I won’t shave my hair off or bleach my eyebrows. Got it. Is that why you called? To berate me for things I haven’t even done yet?”

“Not at all, dear fellow. I just... _worry_ about you. Being alone. And being the hopelessly dramatic demon that you are. Heaven knows what misguided mischief you’ll get up to without an angelic influence to steer you to the path of good sense. Though... of course... if I thought you truly _desired_ to be bald, I would welcome the change. It hardly matters to me what you look like. You are your own person, relatively speaking, and quite capable of making your own, albeit terrible, decisions.”

“... I’m not gonna shave my head, angel.”

“Oh, thank _goodness._ I was terribly concerned you might have done so already! I’ve heard things, you know, on the radio, tales of people getting cabin fever - and next thing they know they’ve a razor in hand and they’re smooth as a boiled egg up top! Oh, dear, no, no. I couldn’t _bear_ that to happen to you. It would be an utter travesty!”

“Yeah? Didn’t know you cared, angel.”

“I don’t. Obviously. But... well, I must admit, I’ve always thought your hair was beautiful.”

“...”

“Crowley?”

“... Have you, now?”

“Oh, always. Do you know, when the sun shines just so, it’s really the most exquisite shade of vermillion. Though certainly, I shan’t lie to you, there have been times when I haven’t cared for the style of it. For instance, that awful ‘do’ you were sporting during the French Revolution -”

“Oi!”

“But, yes. For the most part, I’ve always found your hair to be rather dashing. You vain creature, surely you must have known.”

“...”

“Crowley?”

“...”

“Hullo? Are you there? Oh dear, is there something wrong with your telephone mouthpiece?”

“No. I mean _yes_ , yeah, er, sorry ‘bout that. Bloody thing must be faulty - I’ll - I’ll get a new one. Um. Anyway. Point _is_ , you don’t need to worry about me angel. I already told you last week, I’m taking a nap ‘til July. No chance of me going bonkers, then. M’just gonna have a bit of an extended lie in until all this has blown over.”

“Oh. Oh, right. Yes. Very good. Very sensible of you.”

“Did you... forget?”

“No. No, of course I hadn’t forgotten. But I - well, the truth is, I had hoped that you might have changed your mind about the -”

“Wait. _Wait._ Wait a sec - backtrack a mo, I just woke up and my brain’s all frazzled - did you - did you say _loved ones?_ ”

“... I’m sorry?”

“Earlier. Earlier, when you - did you - did you say that people were checking up on their _loved ones?_ ”

“Hmm? Oh, I - I might have, possibly.”

“And you’re... checking up on _me._ ”

“I... I am.”

“...”

“...”

“ _Angel._ ”

“Honestly, I - I’m quite regretting it now. I can see that you’ve made your mind up about taking your nap, and I shan’t attempt to dissuade you. It was silly of me to call. Very silly, yes, ah. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

“Aziraphale -”

“Good night, Crowley. I wish you the most pleasant of dreams.”

“Wait - no, wait a minute -”

“Until we meet again, my dear.”

_Dial tone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Crowley then swears profusely and proceeds to swallow the phone whole in an attempt to choke himself with it.  
> Tehe :)


	2. The Answering Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More light hearted nonsense! :)

_You have... fourteen... new messages._

“Angel? Oi. I know you’re there, it’s not as if you can leave the bookshop. And you don’t sleep. And ehh, I s’pose you could be reading, but seeing as you always snap at me to be quiet when you are, I know you can probably hear me... ... ... Are you upset? Because of what I said about the - the thing. Last time. Didn’t mean it. I mean, I _did_ mean it. I meant it, if you meant it. Look, just, eurgh, call me back would you?”

_Beeeeeeep_.

“I thought you didn’t own an answering machine? Didn’t you call it a wotsit - what was it - an _unseemly demonic invention, meant only to torture and torment the good and righteous people who didn’t deserve to bothered by annoying demons like me?_ That was it, ‘member? And well, you weren’t wrong, ‘cause I’m pretty sure they’re one of mine... anyway, welcome to the modern age, angel. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

_Beeeeeeep_

“Oh, bollocks, wait a minute, _shit_. Of course you don’t have an answering machine. That was probably my doing, wasn’t it? Whoops. Didn’t mean to miracle you one. Just, y’know, _assumed_ you had one, like a normal person. Didn’t do it on purpose. And it’s come in useful, right...? Sorry, m’sorry, you can chuck it out if you want. Just, yeah, chuck it out, and then call me back.”

_Beeeeeeep._

“Are you deliberately ignoring me? ‘Cause that’s fine. I didn’t wanna talk to you anyway. Don’t know why I even bothered trying to stay in touch. S’not like I’m going completely loopy without any decent company or anything...”

_Beeeeeep._

“That’s a lie. I am. Oh, Satan’s unholy volcanic flatulence, I really am. I’m going _mad_ , angel. I’ve been climbing the walls, literally. Trying to find a good sleeping position, but nothin’ works, I just can’t seem to get comfy. S’awful. And I’ve drunk allthewine, allofit, s’all gone. And... I do want to talk to you. Of course I bloody do. Desperately, actually. So, yeah. Call me before my brain leaks out of every available orifi - orific - offiri... _hole_. Ta.”

_Beeeeeep._

“- _want to break freeeeeeee! I want to breaakkfreeeee!_ Angel! Angel, I miracled a karaoke machine! Angel, s’best thing I’ve ever done. Hey, Aziraphale, s’great. Should come over and gimme your best celestial harmonies. Could do Bohemian Rhapsody together, break all the windows - I’ll do all the high bits, you do the twiddly bits, watcha say? It only plays Queen though, I think I’m cursed. Oh, here it comes, this is the best part - _I’ve fallen in love for the first time, this time I know it’s for reeeeeaaaaallll!_ _I’ve fallen in love!_ Er, not you. Not singing about you. I mean, yes, you, obviously, but shhh! Sssshhhhhhhhh! Not s’pose to ssssay that... .... ... Oh, fuck. Oh bollocking shitty wanky _shi_ -”

_Beeeeeep._

“Angel, hi. It’s me. Uh, don’t suppose you could do me a quick favour? Could you delete that last message? Maybe all of them, actually. Had a bit to drink, dunno what I said, but it was probably total bollocks and you don’t want to have to listen to that. It was really, really boring. Monumentally boring. In fact, I just played bebop obnoxiously down the receiver for half an hour. So, yeah, you’ll want to give it a miss. Anyway. Gimme a ring.”

_Beeeeeep._

“Angel, you’ll have to come over. I can’t tell you why, because the walls have ears, but I can tell you that the fate of the world hangs in the balance. Get your ethereal arse over here _now._ ”

_Beeeeeep._

“All right, I was fibbing. A bit. Aaaaaannnnnggeeeeeeeellllllllllll. If you don’t call me back I’ll shave my head. I mean it. I’ll do it. You know I will.”

_Beeeeeep._

“I did it.”

_Beeeeeep._

“All right, I didn’t do it. I was fibbing again. But, there _is_ a small patch above my left ear that is now completely bald. And it’s all your fault. I chickened out of doing the whole head... for now. Yes, that was meant to be ominous. Foreshadowing, or something. Hear that? That’s the sound of my patience fucking right off.”

_Beeeeeep._

“Come oooonnnnn. Don’t make me come round there and check on you.”

_Beeeeeep._

“Unless... hang on, do you want me to? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me? You want me to think something awful’s befallen you, and then I’ll have to come over and rescue you, only to find out you’ve passed out from eating too many eclairs?”

_Beeeeeep._

“‘Cause that’s fine with me, that’s great actually, I’ll come over. Right now. Got nothing on. Nothing to do... we could do nothing, together. Watcha say? Just... think about it.”

_Beeeeeep. End of messages._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When will Crowley snap and materialise inside the bookshop with his arms full of presents? Soon, probably ;)


	3. Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to you all :)

“Angel! Fucking _finally._ Jesus Christ,I thought you’d suffocated under a mound of profiteroles. Which, mind you, s’not the worst way to go, I s’pose. You do love choux pastry. And chocolate. And whipped cream. If you were gonna pop your angelic clogs, it’d probably be the ideal way to go about it actually, now that I think about it - is that morbid? That sounds morbid. Ffffff. Ignore me, I haven’t had any outside contact for days, weeks, I don’t even know what day it is anymore. Think I’ve lost my marbles. If demons had marbles. Keep thinking about you and bloody profiteroles. Oh, that sounds weird. Forget I said that. Please shut me up. For the love of -”

“ **Crowley.** ”

“... itwasn’tme.”

**_“Crowley.”_ **

“Look, I _swear,_ whatever you're angry about, it wasn’t my fault! Probably. Er. Possibly. Eh. Christ, I really don’t like it when you say my name like that. Gives me the heebiejeebies. Listen. I don’t even know what you’re angry about, but I promise you, there’s a _slim_ possibility that I didn’t do it.”

**“...”**

“Maybe.”

**“Crowley.”**

“... yes?”

**“Would you care to explain just why on _earth_ there is a very suspicious whirring box - with your demonic fingerprints all over it, no less - taking up valuable space on my writing desk?”**

“Erm.”

**“It’s flashing at me, quite alarmingly, as if it bears me ill will. No doubt it harbours nefarious intentions! Is it a bomb?** ”

“What? No! Wha - why the hell would I send you a _bomb?_ ”

“ **I’m sure I don’t know. You are a _demon_ , after all. I don’t presume to know what goes on in that histrionic head of yours. Perhaps you thought it was terribly funny. I can tell you, with utmost sincerity, that it _isn’t._ I don’t find it amusing, at all. In fact, I’m quite thoroughly miffed.**”

“Angel, calm down, you sound all - Wrath of God-y, might wanna tone it down a bit before you get to the lightning stage, or start spitting locusts.”

**“...”**

“Aziraphale?”

“ **I am _attempting_ to calm myself down. Kindly be quiet.”**

“Doesn't sound like it’s working. Your voice sounds like a bloody fog horn. Or twelve.”

**“Well, I’m very grateful to you for pointing that out, it’s helping my ire _immensely_.”**

“You’re welcome.”

**“Oh, don’t start. _Please._ I’ve suffered quite a fright this morning, I don’t mind telling you. This wretched box has knocked over my inkwell, and completely ruined a letter that I was in the process of penning to a dear friend. Not only that, but it has been beeping intermittently at the most irritating frequency for the past twenty minutes, which is interfering with my reading, and giving me a frightful migraine! And _furthermore_ , it seems to be exuding a rather terrifying aura of malice!” **

“Ffffffffsk heh heh heh.”

**“Are you _snickering_ at me?”**

“Wouldn’t dare. Heheheheh.”

**“You are! You villain.”**

“Weeeeellll. It is a bit funny, gotta admit.”

**“It is NOT. Oh, dear. The telephone is beginning to smoke a little. Oh, I really ought to calm down before I melt something. I’ve had this rotary-dial for decades, it would be such a shame for any harm to befall it.”**

“Deep breath in angel, and then whoooosh, let it out. Nice and slow. Come on, I’m the master of cool, me. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

**“Dear, forgive me, but I would hardly label you as ‘cool’. I have witnessed many of your fits of pique over the centuries. I’ll hardly take advice from a demon who once set his own hair on fire. Just... allow me one moment, please. I’m feeling a certain kinship with a brewing cumulonimbus...”**

“A what? Oh, that’s one of those - watchacallem - the big storm clouds. Right. Sounds ominous.”

**“I know, I’ll just pop to the kitchen and retrieve a shortbread from the tin... yes, that’ll do the trick.** ”

“...”

**“...”**

“Do you have to munch that directly in my ear?”

“... Yes.”

“Feeling better now?”

“Marginally. No thanks to you. Now, please explain yourself.”

“It’s not a bomb. I, er, might have _accidentally_ manifested an answering machine when you didn’t pick up.”

“You _**didn’t**._ Oh, Crowley, **you know I can’t _stand_ those awful things! No wonder it feels distinctly evil! What a terrible nuisance! I shall have to get rid of it. What if someone calls me and leaves a message? Oh no, no, no, that won’t do at all.**”

“Someone _has_ called and left you a message angel, _me._ A lot of messages, actually. You didn’t get them?”

“I wouldn’t know how to go about operating the **blasted apparatus, and more importantly, wouldn’t wish to**.”

“Thank fuck for that. Er, I mean. I agree. No point listening to the messages now that you’re talking to me, right? And it was an accident, so no harm done. We’ll just get rid of it and talk no more about it, eh? Anyway, it wouldn’t have sprung into existence in the first place if you’d picked up the bloody phone.”

“ **I see. So it’s _my_ fault, is it? It’s my fault that you miracled a hostile demonic entity into my bookshop without my consent?**”

“Pretty much. Er, angel, don’t get worked up -”

“ **Worked up? I’ll show you worked up! I want it gone this very instant, the beastly thing! And - and good riddance to it!** ”

_**POP!** _

“Oh!”

“Aziraphale?! What was that?!”

“...”

“Angel? What’s happening?!”

“Oh - oh - good _Lord_ -”

“What was that explodey sound? Did it explode?! I swear it wasn’t a bomb!”

“No, ah... Good gracious, I do believe that was me, actually. Perhaps I was tinsy bit overzealous with the old, er, smiting. Ahem, don’t know my own strength, it seems. Dear oh dear - let me just go and fetch a damp tea towel for all of these... smouldering remains...”

“Whuh - wha - did you just _smite_ the answering machine? How is that even possible?”

“One moment, my dear. I’ll have to open a window for these fumes.”

“ _Holy fuck,_ remind me not to piss you off.”

“... Perhaps, I should call you back? This might require a fair bit of attention.”

“Naaahhh, just. Just leave me on the line. I’ll wait. You’d probably forget otherwise, and I’d never bloody hear from you again.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.”

“ _Me?_ I’m not - ffff - _you’re_ the one blowing up innocent answering machines in a fit of rage, not me.”

“Harrumph.”

“Go on, go get rid of the evidence. I’ll be here.”

“All right, well. If you’re certain? Won’t be a tic, my dear...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of this conversation coming soon! :D


	4. The Wager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you’re all well :)

“Ssssss, how long does it take to clean up a little explosion? You’re taking aaaaaaages. I think you just enjoy making me wait.”

“...”

“Well the joke’s on you, ‘cause you know full well that I’d wait forever.”

“...”

“... nngghhhhh, thank fuck you don’t have a speakerphone.”

“...”

“Are you humming _O Fortuna_ _?_ S’not very angelic, is it? Bet you caused some real damage... Wrath of an angel, and all. Oof. Wish I’d been there to see it.”

“...”

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it, why you’ve never smote me before? I mean. Definitely pissed you off at some point... very pissy offy, me. Comes with the territory, I s’pose. Certainly had the opportunity to smite me, haven’t you? ‘Course, there was that close call in Rome, when I pinched one of your honeyed peaches - not an innuendo, wish it was - and _believe_ me, I soon saw the error of my ways after that. Thought you were gonna light my arse with holy fire.”

“I’m back! What were you talking about? I only caught the tail end - something about bottoms and hell fire?”

“What?”

“I missed whatever it was you were mumbling about, I was off dampening a tea towel under the tap. It was a harrowing ordeal, but in the end, I do think I’ve made the right choice. I decided against the one commemorating the Queen’s jubilee. It hardly seemed right to dirty the visage of the reigning monarch. So, I’ve settled on this delightful cotton tea towel depicting a recipe for drop scones, instead... though, it is a real shame to have to use it.”

“Should’ve guessed you owned a collection of useless bloody tea towels.”

“They’re not _useless,_ Crowley, they’re _decorative_. Now, what were you saying?”

“... nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re sure? Ah. _There_ we are, good as new. Oh, I do feel _much_ better now that that wicked contraption is gone. Do you know, it was actually rather therapeutic to blast it to kingdom come! And you’ll be pleased to hear that the desk is only slightly singed. You can fix that when you come over, seeing as it’s entirely your fault that it happened... ah, whenever you come over, that is. Whenever that may be - possibly weeks, or even months away. We can’t know for certain.”

“...”

“...”

“So.”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone? I called, a bit. I mean, not obsessively or anything. Just a few times. Maybe twice. You didn’t pick up.”

“Oh, that, well. I didn’t know it was you. It might have been those awful telemarketers again or even, Heaven forbid, an actual customer! They might have tried to talk me into sending one of my books willy nilly in the post, like some sort of - of mass market, chain bookshop! Or that Amazonian inter web site you were telling me about. No, no. Besides, I’ve been very busy.”

“Busy with what? Shop’s closed. Hell, the whole bloody world’s closed.”

“Well, if you _must_ know, I was keeping a watchful eye on the pistachio soufflés - they’re very delicate, and liable to collapse, and the tops might caramelise too much if one isn’t exceedingly careful! It might have been an unmitigated disaster, if I hadn’t been on hand to intervene. I simply couldn’t leave them alone to do something as trivial as answer the telephone.”

“Right... and how much _have_ you been baking, angel?”

“Oh, the normal amount, I should imagine. A little here, a little there!”

“...”

“Ah... it _might_ be fair to say that the bookshop currently has a 1:1 book to cake ratio.”

“...”

“...”

“... You all right, angel?”

“What a silly question, of course I am! Of _course_ I am. Never better, actually. I’ve just been keeping very busy. Wonderfully busy. With the baking. It’s very time consuming. So many recipes to be getting on with! Anyway, the point is, I wasn’t expecting your call. I was under the distinct impression that you had decided to take a very long nap.”

“Er, yeah, I mean. I was gonna do that, yeah. But, weeeeellll... might’ve... changed my mind. A smidge.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Listen, angel...”

“I’m listening.”

“...”

“Crowley? You have my undivided attention.”

“Eh... ffff...”

“What is it, my dear? You can tell me anything, I won’t judge you for it. That’s a terrible fib, I will most _definitely_ judge you. But with ethereal compassion.”

“You make it really bloody hard to tell you anything, you know that?”

“Oh, come now, you’ve already started, you might as well finish.”

“Nghhh, the thing is... the thing _is_.”

“My dear fellow, if you’d be so good as to spit it out, I’d appreciate it greatly. I have better things to do than stand idly by listening to you prevaricate.”

“Right. Okay. Right, then. The thing is, my offer still stands. You know, the whole popping over thing. Could do it right now through the telephone, if you want. Wouldn’t even have to step a single demonic toe outside, that way, so m’not even breaking the rules. Just... just say the word, angel, and I’ll be there.”

“...”

“Is that a no?”

“... I, well, I - I hadn’t expected you to ask again.”

“That’s what I do. So, it’s a no then.”

“Well. It’s... it’s not a _yes_. I - I’m afraid you might find it dreadfully dull over here.”

“Nah, dull? With you? Never.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“S’not. M’not kind. I meant it as an insult. Angels are meant to be dull. And you’re not. So, there you go, consider yourself insulted.”

“Oh, I do. Naturally. However, I’m sure you’d soon change your tune if we were actually forced to cohabit together. I’m afraid there’s not a great deal to do here for a demon who avoids reading like the plague and doesn’t know how to appreciate the texture of a good chiffon cake. You’d be even more bored than you already are, or worse, we’d get on each other’s nerves.”

“Nahhh, we wouldn’t.”

“Crowley. You can’t _honestly_ tell me that you would manage to survive an extended stay at the bookshop without resorting to playing practical jokes on me?”

“The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, angel.”

“Really.”

“Well, I mean, it has _now,_ because you put it there. Giving me ideas.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, _yes._ ”

“Well, I’m hardly in the mood to be trifled with. That rather settles the matter, doesn’t it? We shall stay in our separate abodes, with brief weekly contact via the telephone, and that way we shall retain our friendship without murdering one another.”

“... so we’re friends, are we?”

“Oh, Crowley. Of _course_ we’re friends.”

“Mm. Only, last week you implied I was a _loved one._ Bit of a step down, isn’t it? Friend, I mean. From loved one.”

“...”

“...”

“Don’t _tease,_ you ridiculous creature.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re casually trying out new terms of endearment, and wanted some feedback, then I liked ‘loved one’. It was nice, should keep it.”

“I wasn’t... I didn’t... I just thought it would be nice to stay in touch.”

“Right. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like you _miss_ me, angel.”

“...”

“You do _-_ you _miss me!_ I knew it!”

“I do _not_.”

“You _do!_ ”

“Honestly. What a ridiculous notion. Miss you? Perish the thought! On the contrary, I believe _you_ are the one who is missing _me_. As clearly evidenced by the incessant phone calls and miracled answering machine! I’ll have you know, that I have been quite content by myself, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Very much so. I have no desire to see you, at all.”

“Pfffffttt. Well, I don’t want to see you either.”

“Good. Then we won’t see each other, and we’ll be terribly happy about it.”

“You’ll crack sooner or later, angel. You’ll be popping round with a plate full of scones in no time. Bet I can last longer than you can.”

“Ha! I seriously doubt that.”

“Just try me, angel.”

“All right, I will. Care to place a wager on it, my dear?”

“Wha - well - yeah, _yeah_ , I would. Let’s do it.”

“And the terms?”

“Complete isolation. No contact at all, just me and a crate full of industrial strength booze.”

“Don’t be absurd, you wouldn’t last a week. If you’re not going to take this seriously...”

“All right, how about this, then? Make it interesting. We can call each other, once a week, but we’re not allowed to see one another. No sneaky rendezvous. No midnight meet ups. No getting ratarsed and miracling ourselves across London. No face to face stuff, at all. The prize is the usual. Bragging rights for a century.”

“And if I win, you have to participate in the wonderful magic act I’m currently working on for the children. I’ve always wanted to saw you in half.”

“All right, fine, that’s a weird thing to want, but fine. And if you lose, you have to perform a magic act with _real_ magic.”

“Oh, but... that’s not nearly as enjoyable.”

“Trust me angel, the kids will prefer it.”

“Oh. All _right_ , I suppose it doesn’t really matter what I agree to, because I have absolutely no intention of losing. Oh, oh! I’ve just had a thought. We could each do our best to _tempt_ the other into coming over! Oh, dear me! What fun!”

“Are you _wiggling_ right now? Christ Almighty, you’re gonna kill me, angel.”

“No, but I _am_ going to win. Pip pip!”

“Pip what? Oi - don’t hang up on me again - don’t -”

“I have to go, I’m far too busy to entertain you. Why, are you missing me already?”

“No. Nope. Not at all. Just. Ffff.”

“Oh, oh _Crowley_. You’re really very sweet. And I am definitely going to win.”

“I hate you.”

“I think, perhaps, it’s rather the opposite actually.”

“ _Wha -_ ”

“Toodle pip!”

_Dial tone_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this silly old story, and for all the kind words. I really appreciate it :D


	5. The Pub Quiz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s my favourite. Really hope you enjoy this one! :)

“M’yeah?”

“ _Crowley!_ Hullo! It’s me!”

“Angel? Mmmffgh... bit early, aren’t you? Whadayisit?”

“Have you been asleep? That’s not very sporting of you, some might even call it _cheating._ You can’t expect to just dillydally the days away unconscious -”

“Mn. Aziraphale. Thought we agreed on Fridays.”

“Ah _yes,_ we did, but... well, to be perfectly honest, I simply couldn’t wait any longer.”

“... Is that right? Pfff. I knew you’d miss me. Cracked already, have you? I’ll be over in a -”

“No, _no._ I think you’ve misunderstood, my dear. I don’t wish to see you.”

“Oh. Right. Good. That’s good. Yeah.”

“No, I called because - oh, it’s _very_ exciting - I thought we could do a _public house quiz_ together!”

“... You wot.”

“A public -”

“You mean a _pub quiz._ ”

“Is that the colloquialism? A _pub quiz,_ oh, how marvellous, that’s even better! Very succinct. I’ve heard it’s all the rage, and a very thrilling activity to participate in during The Lockdown. I’ve written down a series of questions, there are twelve rounds, and each round pertains to a different category of interest. There is, of course, an overall theme, and a bonus question, at the end. I put it all together myself, and wrote each question down on these nifty little cards!”

“Right... spent a bit of time on this, have you?”

“Oh, all week. I’ve been looking forward to surprising you!”

“Consider me surprised. And who am I playing against, in this pub quiz of yours?”

“Well, _me,_ obviously.”

“And you wrote the questions.”

“Yes.”

“Ehh... I don’t think you’ve fully grasped the concept of pub quizzes, angel.”

“What do you mean? I researched them thoroughly! I even went on the dratted inter-web and looked on the googles -”

“Aziraphale. If you wrote the questions, then you already know the answers, so what’s the bloody point of taking part?”

“Well, because _you_ don’t know the answers. You have to guess! Oh, it will be tremendous fun!”

“...”

“Crowley? Are you still there?”

“...”

“You’ll have a jolly old time! I promise.”

“Eurgh... _Fine._ I’ll do your stupid quiz, but I’m not playing against you.”

“Oh, all right, if you insist. You didn’t stand a chance against me, anyway.”

“You _wrote the bloody questio_ \- ngghhhhh - never mind, let’s just... get it over with. Go on. I can practically hear you bursting with excitement, it’s giving me hives.”

“Ahem hem...”

“...”

“Welcome, one and all, to the first public house quiz of its kind! Though, perhaps a more accurate name might be ‘bookshop quiz’, as I’m currently residing in the bookshop, although, you are not, hmm, perhaps, ‘telephone quiz’ would be a better -”

_“Aaannngggeeellll.”_

“Right, ah - ahem. I am your host, the Principality Aziraphale! Former Guardian of the Eastern Gate, current, ah, _rogue_ Angel of Earth.”

“I know who you are, you idiot, you don’t have to introduce yourself.”

“Yes, but, the _theatre_ of it! The _spectacle!_ Play along, my dear.”

“I’m gonna _kill you._ ”

“Oh, don’t be such a grumpy old goose!”

“Think I can probably manage to shove my hands through the mouthpiece if I concentrate hard enough, then I can strangle you.”

“Oh, very funny, I’d like to see you try... Actually, yes, I _would_ like to see that. As that would mean you had broken the rules or our wager, and I would have become the victor.”

“Nuh uh, we said no face to face contact, not _hands to neck_. So there.”

“Hmm. You are a most wicked, and tricksy thing.”

“Ta.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, my dear.”

“It definitely was.”

“Moving swiftly on. First round, colon, Regency Snuffboxes of the Early Eighteenth Century!”

“Unnnnggghhhhhhhhhh.”

“Question one. As we all know, during the Golden Age of Snuff, a snuff box was a quintessential part of a gentleman’s attire -”

“Kill me now.”

“- could you inform the host, for a grand total of one point -”

“Sod it, I’ll off myself.”

“- how many snuff boxes did King George IV have in his esteemed collection, at the time of his death, in 1830?”

“...”

“The clock’s ticking, my dear! Oh, the suspense! The drama! Tick tock, tick tock!”

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this...”

“Tick tock! Tick tock! Time’s up! Do you have something for me?”

“... Eh. I dunno.”

“Oh, come now, Crowley, you must at least give me an answer.”

“I said I don’t know. That’s an answer.”

“No it isn’t.”

“All right, well, ffffff. I still don’t know.”

“Well, _guess_ , then! It’s all part of the fun! Go on! _Guess!_ Just pick a number, any number, you never know, you might just get lucky!”

“All right, sod it. Um, twelve?”

“... Twelve?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Twelve._ ”

“Wot? That’s an answer, you said give you an answer, so I did!”

“Are you being _deliberately_ dim-witted? He was the _King of England!_ In the height of the popularity of snuff boxes! Oh, _Crowley._ You really aren’t taking this seriously at all, are you?”

“Look, I just said I didn’t know what the bloody answer was, angel.”

“Yes, but, twelve? _Really?_ You couldn’t have come up with a better number? Good gracious, I expected much better from you, you really have the most _atrocious_ memory. Weren’t you sniffing around his court at that time? You are aware, of course, that I have in my possession one of his Mother of Pearl, automotive, snuff boxes - a very rare collector’s piece. Surely, I’ve showed it off to you?”

“Ehfffff. Might ring a bell.”

“I should have known, you _never_ listen to me.”

“I do. Just not when it’s, y’know, really boring rubbish about snuffboxes. Come on then, what’s the actual answer? Let’s see how wrong I was, so you can laugh at me.”

“The answer is... ah, drum roll, as the young ones say - _tum diddle tum diddle tum!_ It was - seven hundred and thirty three! Ta da!”

“...”

“Oh, I bet you’re feeling exceptionally silly right now, aren’t you? For not having guessed it correctly.”

“Yes. I’m feeling fucking ridiculous.”

“How dreadful for you. I also would have accepted, for a half point, seven hundred and thirty four, as one of his favourite snuffboxes mysteriously went missing just before his untimely demise, and has never been recovered by human means -”

“Angel.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Are all the questions going to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“Mindbuggeringly _awful._ ”

“...”

“Well?”

“... That’s terribly rude of you. I’ll have you know, I spent a great deal of time on this, Crowley. See if I go through the effort of creating an entire ‘questions and answers’ game for your enjoyment, ever again, you ungrateful wretch. The very _nerve._ ”

“All right, all right. M’sorry. Fine, just... Can we at least skip to the music round? I might have a shot at that one.”

“Oh, I’m afraid there is no music round.”

“No music round?”

“No. Well, unless you count the one about the wonders of the Opera, but surely even if you reduce Opera to its component parts, music is merely one facet of the greater whole - there’s all that delightful dancing, and the facial expressions, and the exquisitely detailed costumes and - oh no, no, no, mere music alone does not do it justice. Opera is art.”

“Aziraphale.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be honest with you, I think my brain’s trying to make a daring escape out of my left ear. This isn’t really my thing.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t do that, don’t do the ‘oh’ thing.”

“It’s just that... well, it seems such a terrible shame... I put an awful lot of thought into it... and I really had thought you might -”

“ _Fuck me sideways._ Fine! _Fine!_ What are the other rounds? Give me the names of the rounds and I’ll pick the best one. All right?”

“Oh, wonderful. Well, there’s the snuffboxes of course.”

“Sod that, I’ve done that, next one.”

“And that was a firm no on the Opera round too, I take it? Hmm. What about The Superiority of the Phonograph?”

“No.”

“A Brief History of Tartan?”

“No! Fuck no. You’ve really got a whole round on bloody _tartan?_ ”

“It’s a very rich and diverse subject matter! For instance, did you know that each clan has its own distinct -”

“No. No. No. Next round.”

“The Works of Oscar Wilde? ... Shakespeare’s Tragedies? ... The Lesser Known Etiquettes Of Bookselling?”

“Angel. You didn’t make this quiz for me at all, did you. This quiz is for you. This quiz is just a great big list of stuff that you like and you called me up to try and bore me to death with it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s see now - aha! I’m sure you’ll enjoy the bonus question!”

“Ech. Go on, then.”

“Ahem. Bonus question, colon, which Angel of the Lord once inadvertently swallowed one of Lord Beelzebub’s flies?”

“Was it you.”

“Of _course_ it wasn’t me! Good gracious, I have more sense than that.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you. You have put a lot of things in your mouth.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Gabriel!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Was it Gabriel? Who swallowed the fly. I mean, wishful thinking, ‘cause he’s the one I most want to see choke. What happened, anyway? After they swallowed it?”

“Oh, whoever it was sneezed and it flew out of their nose. It was rather amusing. Rather put them off ingesting anything ever again. I can’t imagine it was a very pleasant experience.”

“Right, I’m going with Gabriel. My money’s on him and Beelzebub having something kinky going on.”

“What a _ghastly_ thought. Is that your final answer, my dear?”

“Yes, for the love of all that’s unholy, let’s end this bloody thing.”

“And the answer is - _tum diddle tum diddle tum -!_ ”

“...”

_“- diddle tum diddle tum -”_

“Angel, fuck’s sake. I will _end_ you.”

“ - _diddle tum diddle tum!”_

“...”

  
“ _Gabriel!_ Oh! Well _done_ , Crowley! You’ve won! Marvellous show, dear fellow! My heartfelt congratulations!”

“Wahoo.”

“Well, you could try to sound just a _little_ more enthusiastic.”

“I’m ecstatic. So, what do I win then?”

“Oh, I hadn’t actually given the prize much thought...”

“Because you thought you’d win.”

“No. Well, yes. But only because I am obviously superior in every way, and I never lose. Especially not to a demon. I would definitely have won if I had participated. Ah, I know! How about this, you may get me to do something of your choosing, within reason of course, once this whole lockdown business has ended!”

“... something of my choosing? Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I could be forced to - to water your plants, say.”

“ _Bor_ -ing.”

“All right, um, I could... give you one of my best bottles of wine that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

“Nah, we’d end up drinking it together anyway. You’d just do the face, otherwise.”

“Face? What face?”

“ _Your_ face, you know exactly which one.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. All right, well, you could get me to do something I wouldn’t, usually.”

“Like...?”

“I could, perhaps, oh, I don’t know, give you a preen? Or run you a nice bath? Or - or even embrace you.”

“...”

“No, you’re right, that would hardly be appropriate. Forget I said anything, I was joking, obviously.”

“Why not give me a kiss while you’re at it, angel.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I was joking, too.”

“... Of course you were, you fiend. The very _idea_ of kissing you... after all of these years... dear me, ah, a completely laughable prospect.”

“Yeah. S’what I thought. Hilarious.”

“... quite right.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll think of something, angel.”

“Nothing too dire, I hope?”

“The worst. I’m a demon. You’ve just told a _demon_ you owe them a favour, ffffff. You’re _fucked._ ”

“Crowley. I said within reason. I shan’t engage in any of your wiles, nor perform any temptations.”

“Never stopped you before, pretty sure you enjoyed them actually. And I never had any complaints from Downstairs.”

“Nevertheless, I am retired. I’m afraid that this old angel simply doesn’t have it in him anymore.”

“Nah, I think you’ve still got a temptation left in you.”

“... Well... _Well_. Think on it, my dear. You may have anything you wish, that is mine to give you.”

“...”

“Goodnight, Crowley.”

“... Night, angel.”

_Dial tone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had way too many zoom quizzes lately, this just wrote itself ;) thanks so much for reading, your lovely comments mean the world to me.


	6. Woeful Attempts at Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so lovely and supportive of this silly little story, you get me through the days :D  
> Now, let’s see how much awkward flirting I can possibly fit into one chapter...

“A Z Fell and Co. Bookshop. I’m afraid we aren’t currently operating, we don’t process orders over the telephone, and we _certainly_ don’t respond kindly to telemarketing riffraff. How may I be of assistance?”

“ _Aziraphale,_ hey. If it isn’t my favourite angel.”

“Oh, Crowley. It’s you.”

“Of course it’s _me_ , no one else bloody rings you, do they?”

“Actually, I think you’ll find that they _do._ In fact, I thought for a second that you might have been dear Anathema, we’ve been catching up, you see.”

“Who?”

“Anathema.”

“...”

“...”

“... I got nothing.”

“The witch from the apocalypse? Who helped to save the world? Her ancestor’s prophetic book was invaluable to our escape from our respective employers and horrific, untimely demises?”

“Eh... fff... doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You _hit_ her with your car.”

“Oh! Oh, you mean the one who rode her bicycle right into me. Asking for trouble, that one. The, um. Wassername? Book girl, that’s it. What’re you talking to her for?”

“Well, I think it’s always a good idea to keep in touch, isn’t it? To have people to rely on, and converse with, during these uncertain times. Besides, I like to think we are becoming fast friends! She really is wonderfully witty when you get to know her, and also extremely knowledgable when it comes to the occult arts. Do you know, we have been discussing all sorts of -”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure she’s a real hoot. But enough about her, you’re talking to me now.”

“Oh... oh. All right, then. I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jealous.”

“Jealous? I’m not _jealous._ Why would I be jealous of that old hag? And her stupid bloody bicycle. And her secret conversations with you? I wouldn’t. I’m not. Look, just - can you start again, maybe this time make it seem like you’re happy I called?”

“Oh, but that would be lying.”

“You - you. Really?”

“Tee hee hee! Oh, _Crowley._ Of course I’m happy that you called, I do so look forward to our weekly catch ups. Here, let me just get into the role. Ah. Yes, hello! Oh my! What a lovely surprise to hear from you!”

“Hmf.”

“Come now, my dear, I was only teasing you. It is quite wonderful to hear your voice. Good evening, Crowley.”

“Yeah? ... It is, isn’t it? It’s a very, _very_ good evening. _Fantastic_ evening. Best evening of my life. Now that I’m talking to you.”

“... as flattering as that is to hear, my dear, it does make one instantly suspicious.”

“Of me? Pahh.”

“Oh no. What have you been up to? Sowing discord at the local supermarket by hiding all of the bread flour? Tampering with the neighbour’s post? Oh, please tell me it wasn’t you who left all of those awful _Mills & Boon_ books on my doorstep?”

“Couldn’t possibly say.”

“Oh, what is it? Something nefarious, no doubt. You’re sounding _unusually_ jovial.”

“Jovial, ffffff, who even says that? Jov-ial, _jove-ee-ul._ ”

“Crowley... have you been drinking?”

“What kind of a question is that? Have I been drinking, I mean, wassat got to do with anything? People need to drink, don’t they? Humans, I mean. They need to drink or they’d be dead. And anyway. Off licences have been deemed essential. So it’s essential that I’ve been drinking. Maybe.”

“All right. Let me clarify, then. Are you, perhaps, _drunk?_ ”

“Astrononomo - astrophysica - asto - yes. I am. Very.”

“Good _Lord._ ”

“Don’t you _‘Good Lord’_ me. You’ve always gotta bring her into it, haven’t you? Well, doesn’ matter anyway, ‘cause she’s seen me _much_ worse off than this, lemme tell you - this is peanuts to that time in ‘23, you know _,_ with all the peacocks. And the ceremonial mead. And the wedding.”

“I’m afraid I _don’t_ know. And I’m quite certain that I don’t _wish_ to know, either. Dear oh dear. Is that how you’ve been spending your time is it? Getting intoxicated? Well, really. First the sleeping, and then these drunken shenanigans! I should have known better than to strike up a bet with a demon.”

“Heh heh heh.”

“Good gracious me. Are you _giggling?_ ”

“Nooooooo. No. Nope. Not me, I don’t giggle. I’m a vicious beast of the pits, and vicious beasts of the pits don’t giggle. They, you know, laugh manically with their heads tilted all the way back, like this - _whoops!_ Sloshed a bit of water there, shouldn’t do that -”

“Water? What are you talking about? Where are you? Are you - are you snapping your fingers? I really don’t think you should be attempting any miracles in your state.”

“Nnng. S’hard to do when they’re wet, I’m trying for a towel.”

“What on _earth_ are you doing that requires a towel?”

“Well, I can say one thing for certain, angel, and that is -I’m definitely _not_ in the bath.”

“...”

“Because that’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Prob’ly. Prob’ly weird. Calling you in the bath, I mean. S’got _connotationsss_ \- on account of the whole being stark bollock nake - oi, woss that sound?”

“Oh, I just popped open a bottle I had lying around, gathering dust. I thought I might keep you company, maybe even attempt to catch up. Although, it sounds as though that might take me a while. I’ll drink to the memory of your poor liver, dear boy.”

“Whaaaaay! _Now_ you’re talking. Join me, angel! Wanna hop in the bathtub, too?”

“...”

“...”

“I... I _beg_ your pardon?”

“Eh? Oh! No, _no!_ I’m not - I didn’t mean - not _my_ bathtub. I meant _your_ bathtub. I mean, er, you could get in a different bath if you wanted, not this one, not enough room, not that there wouldn’t be enough room, I’d make room, not that you’d want to get in the bath with me, and not that _I’d_ want you to - just - just thought you might want your own ‘cause you love all those bubbles and oils and the way they make you all soft and _ffff._ I’m shutting up now.”

“Ah. For a moment there, I thought you might be _inexpertly_ trying to seduce me.”

“...”

“Which, of course, you aren’t.”

“...”

“... you aren’t, are you?”

“...”

“No, no, ah, what on earth am I thinking! Dear me. What an utterly ludicrous thought.”

“...”

“Crowley?”

“Ludicrous. Right. Right. Yep. Absolutely.”

“... I think I shall remain dry for tonight, thank you. I’ve just settled comfortably on the sofa.”

“That works too. As long as you’re... comfortable. What’re you drinking, anyway?”

“Oh, just a quaffable Shiraz. I wouldn’t want to indulge in anything too fancy, seeing as the end goal is to get soused.”

“...”

“Oh, mmm... that’s _lovely,_ actually. Just what I needed. Perhaps, I should arrange a small platter of soft cheeses? Oh, yes! What a marvellous idea! I think it would pair absolutely perfectly. What a _treat._ Now, let’s see. I know I have some Brie here, somewhere. Now, where did I... oh, forgive me, I shall have to get up to peruse the supplies. I’ll just be one moment, Crowley, and then I’ll be right back with you...”

“...”

“...”

“ _Ngghh..._ the things you do to me, angel.”

“Aha, _there_ it is! Oh, and a Camembert too, how very fortuitous... I’m sorry, my dear, you were saying? What do I do to you?”

“Wat.”

“You said, ‘the things I do to you’. What things?”

“... fuck. Shitty shitty shitting _shitonastick -_ ”

“Crowley? Surely, whatever it is doesn’t require quite so many vulgarities, you’re offending my delicate sensibilities.”

“I don’t give a toss about your _delicate sensibilities!_ ”

“Oh.”

“You wanna know what you do to me? You annoy me, that’s what you do. You and your bloody soft cheese.”

“What on earth could you possibly have against soft cheese?”

“It’s all. It’s. It’s not the cheese, it’s _you._ And the cheese. You eating cheese.”

“Me... eating cheese?”

“Yes. You annoy the hell out of me when you eat cheese. You’re very annoying.”

“Oh...”

“...”

“Well, I... I’m sorry that you feel that way. After all, _you_ were the one who called _me_. If I’m so annoying, you’d do well to hang up. I was having a delightful evening before being so rudely insulted.”

“...”

“Goodbye, Crowley.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it, I was being a twat!”

“Humph. So, you _don’t_ think I’m annoying?”

“Weeeelll, I mean yeah, I do, you are annoying, really fucking annoying sometimes, but you’re _my_ annoying.”

“... I don’t know what you’re trying to articulate to me, my dear, but it certainly doesn’t sound like an apology. I wish you a pleasant evening. Oh, and do try to sober up before you inevitably pass out and drown yourself.”

“Wait! Wait wait _wait,_ come on. Don’t go.”

“I shall need an incentive to stay.”

“I’ll apologise!”

“Please do.”

“All right... sssssssssss...”

“I’m waiting. You have approximately twenty seconds before I, and my platter of delectable soft cheeses, enjoy a quiet night in without you.”

“All right, I’m getting there, ffffffffff... ehhhh... _nggghhhh..._ ”

“Goodbye.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. _There._ I said it. Blech.”

“For what?”

“For... calling you annoying. Even though you are.”

“My dear, you are positively dreadful at apologising.”

“I’m a _demon,_ what did you expect? I’m a very, very drunk demon. I’m amazed I’m still conscious, actually, y’know, think this amount of whisky would’ve downed a rhinoceros. Several rhinoceroses. A whole herd of rhinoceroseseses... sees.... and - and when did I get a rubber duck? I don’ even know. It’s got a little bow tie.”

“Crowley. Did you miracle yourself a rubber duck that looks like me?”

“... no.”

“Crowley.”

“Ssssshhhh. I am very, _very_ drunk.”

“Well, allow me to catch up, and then how about we see who can out annoy the other, hmm?”

“Eh? Thought we were doing that already.”

“Yes, but it’ll be a _game!_ We shall each trade insults, or choice observations, and the winner is the person, er, celestial being, who _outwits_ the other. It’ll serve to clear the air a little, and more importantly, I’m certain it will be a great deal of fun! What do you say?”

“All right. Yeah. I got nothin’ else on.”

“Wonderful. I’ll start, shall I? Seeing as you’ve already insulted me during this telephone conversation.”

“Lay it on me, angel. I can take it.”

“Very well... let’s see. Oh, I know! I think that the furniture at your flat is _most_ uncomfortable, and I don’t care for it one jot.”

“Eh? S’ _meant_ to be uncomfortable. Deters visitors.”

“Well, indeed. I felt very deterred. It was like sitting on a paving slab.”

“Pffff. M’sorry my sofa’s not good enough for your pompous arse.”

“Apology accepted. Your turn.”

“Lemme think... I don’t like your old granny knickknacks.”

“My... _old granny knickknacks?_ ”

“Yeah. You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t. To what are you referring?”

“Ehhhhffff, all of the stuff. That you own.”

“ _Harrumph._ ”

“Fskkk heheheh.”

“Well, I think that, secretly, you’re a very _nice_ demon.”

“Oi, none of that! These are s’pose to be insults!”

“And do you feel insulted?”

“Eh. You. Mn. You’re playing _dirty,_ angel. And for the record, tartan is _not_ stylish. And your magic act makes me want to scoop out my own eyeballs with a blunt spoon.”

“How dare you. You just don’t appreciate showmanship, that’s your problem. Well, you’ll soon be singing a different tune, when I inevitably win the bet! I’ve already picked out your outfit as the dazzling magician’s companion.”

“You... wot?”

“It’s really very nice. Very... _sparkly._ Lots of sequins and feathers and, _oh,_ my dear, you’ll look positively _beguiling_ in it, I can assure you.”

“I am not wearing a spangly outfit, angel.”

“Of course you are, you’ll have no choice in the matter. A bet’s a bet, after all! But not to worry, my dear, it’s actually a very modest costume. It wouldn’t do to give the children nightmares, after all.”

“Oi!”

“And it’s much easier to put you into a box without worrying about you flashing anyone during the routine.”

“You’re gonna _humiliate_ me in front of the kids!”

“Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. I do hope so. You’ll have to wear high heels as well, I’m afraid. Normally, I wouldn’t have a preference, nor subject you to such torture, even if they do make your calves look lovely. However, the dummy legs that are attached to the box are already wearing heels as a default, and it would rather ruin the magic if you didn’t match.”

“...”

“Are you blowing bubbles? Crowley? Oh, you melodramatic demon! Get back up here at once. _Crowley._ ”

“Sorry... was just trying to drown myself.”

“My dear, that would be quite impossible, you don’t need to breathe.”

“More’s the fucking pity... where the hell did you get a bloody sequinned outfit from anyway? We’re in the middle of a _lockdown_ , for Christ’s sake.”

“Oh, that, I’ve had it for ages.”

“...”

“...”

“You’ve... had it for ages?”

“... yes.”

“You’ve had a _spangly outfit_ , in your possession, for _ages?_ ”

“Well, ah, yes. That is to say -”

“ _In my size._ ”

“...”

“... _Why_.”

“Just, I suppose, on the off chance that you might... er... that you might _indulge_ me, of an evening.”

“...”

“And... er, dear me, I seem to be getting off topic. Oh, this wine has gone to my head, I fear. I’m supposed to be insulting you, aren’t I? Yes. Yes, ah. It’s my turn, isn’t it? Insults. _Insults._ That’s what we were doing.”

“Don’t change the subject. You want me to dress up for you, angel?”

“Of course I don’t! What a silly - no, _no._ It’s for the _children._ Not for me. I was sure they’d be endlessly amused by your ostrich tail feathers. That was all. Nothing risqué, about it. At all. Quite tasteful, actually. And children are entertained by bright colours, aren’t they? Now, enough of these frivolous distractions, let’s get back to the game at hand, shall we?”

“... If you like.”

“I don’t like your - your - oh, _bother_ -”

“Still distracted?”

“No!”

“By my _lovely tail feathers?_ ”

“Crowley, do shut _up._ I’m thinking.”

“Come on angel, I’m winning here. I’m the master of insults. And _another_ thing I don’t like about you - all those bloody doilies you have hanging around the place - what’re they even for? What the hell _is_ a doily anyway? Little frilly thing, whassat all about?”

“You most certainly are not winning, and I’ll have you know that doilies are _dual purpose_. They are both decorative and protective. Besides which, one could argue that doilies fall under the category of ‘old granny knickknacks’ that you previously mentioned, therefore, I think you’ll find that you’ve just repeated yourself, and in actual fact, _I_ am in the lead.”

“Wha? That’s not fair, angel! Everything you _own_ is an old granny knickknack!”

“Then you should have been more specific with your insults, it’s hardly _my_ fault that you’ve run out of things to say so early in the game. Now, let me think... _aha!_ Crowley, my dear fellow, I don’t care for your taste in ridiculously tight trousers.”

“‘Course you don’t, because they’re fashiona - fascisma - fashion. Height of fashion. Cool. Something I wouldn’t expect you to understand, you... old granny.”

“Oh, _very_ imaginative.”

“Heheh.”

“The mind _boggles_ how you even manage to get _into_ the blasted things. One would assume it would be a little like hose, except, from what I gather from observation alone, the material isn’t nearly as stretchy.”

“Pffft. You’ve been thinking of me, getting into my trousers?”

“Well, that or getting out of them.”

“...”

“I mean, ah... oh _dear._ I have had rather a lot to drink, haven’t I?”

“Carry on, angel. Think I like where this is going.”

“Well, I don’t. I ought to retire for the night. And you should get out of that bath before you do yourself a mischief.”

“Why? Have you been imagining me getting out of that, too?”

“Oh! You - you _wicked, vile, despicable creature!_ You’re twisting my words! For your information, Crowley, I don’t think of you, at all, in any capacity, ever.”

“Hehehehe.”

“That’s it, I’m sobering up. I’ve had quite enough of your wiles for today.”

“Noooooooooo. No, no, don’t do that, things were just getting interesting.”

“I, unlike you, have better things to do with my time.”

“Really. Like what?”

“Like, ah - oh yes,I have this platter of soft cheese sitting on my lap, which desperately needs seeing to. The cheeses have just come up to temperature. They won’t consume themselves, you know.”

“Bah. That’s not an excuse. Just eat it on the phone. Multitask.”

“Well... I... I suppose I _could._ If you insist.”

“I do. I mean, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“...”

“...”

“... _Mmm..._ Oh, that’s absolutely _scrumptious._ ”

“...”

“I was right, it pairs _exceedingly_ well with the Shiraz, just exquisite.”

“...”

“Oh dear, I seem to have, in my overzealousness, made a little mess of my fingers. That’s the problem with a good soft cheese, it does have a tendency to melt at body heat.”

_“Nghhh.”_

“Now, where did I put my handkerchief?”

“...”

“Oh drat, I believe it’s in my coat pocket, hanging over there by the door. Such an _effort_ to get up when I’m so comfy... would it be _terribly_ _naughty_ to lick my fingers instead?”

“...”

“...”

“Right. That’s _it._ I can’t take it anymore.”

“Hmm? Whatever do you mean, dear boy?”

“You _know._ You know _exactly_ what you - _you_ \- errffffffff! Are you - are you _sucking_ on your fingers?! That’s _obscene!_ ”

“It’s the only way to get the cheese off, without making a further mess. Besides, you can hardly object - you can’t even _see_ me.”

“I can _hear_ you, that’s enough! Jesus _Christ._ I can hear your lips smacking together! Are you trying to _kill_ me?! Is that it?!”

“Don’t be absurd. If I wanted to kill you, I would have set up one of those moving picture cameras.”

“I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t - I’m hanging up!”

“Oh, _fine._ Leave me to my soft cheese. I’m sure to have a much better time by myself! I won’t have to worry about being accused of obscenity by a naked, inebriated demon in a bubble bath, whose sole bath time companion is a rubber duck who bears _striking resemblance_ to me! Of all the _ridiculous_ things!”

“... He doesn’t look like you. He’s a duck!”

“A duck that has a bow tie, Crowley. Do you think me oblivious?”

“He’s - he’s wearing a bow tie because he’s a smartly dressed duck! A formal duck. He could be wearing a duck tuxedo. He could be James Bond, for all you know!”

“James _Pond,_ surely.”

“... Was that - did you just _pun_ at me? Fffffff. That was _awful._ ”

“The point _is_ , you could just admit that you miss me, there’s no need to keep up this ridiculous charade. Miracling mysterious mallards, and the like. It wouldn’t be _necessary_ if you just came over here like we both know you’re going to, eventually.”

“Not gonna happen. I’m not losing.”

“Why do you have to be so - so - so _stubborn?!_ ”

“Me? _I’m_ not the bloody - _you’re_ the stubborn one. Why don’t you come over here?”

“To your flat with the uncomfortable furniture? I think not!”

“I’ll miracle you a futon.”

“Oh, how _very_ accommodating of you.”

“I’m not losing the bet. If you want to come over, be my guest. But I’m _fine_ over here, just _fine_ , having a whale of a time, actually, got my booze, got my more booze. I don’t need you.”

“Clearly. Well. I hope that you and my aquatic bird counterpart are very happy together. Good _night._ ”

_Dial tone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed this! One chapter left :)


	7. They’re both idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we come to the end of this daft old story. I’m so grateful to you for reading this, and for all of the lovely comments. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed this mad deviation from my usual hurt/comfort. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy the final chapter! :)

“...”

“Angel, that you?”

“...”

“Aziraphale... You can’t claim to have accidentally called me, you know. You have to physically poke your fingers into your rotary dial and turn them, it’s not like you sat on your mobile or something. Oi. Oiiiiiii. Oi.”

“...”

“Look, I _know_ it’s you, all right. I can _hear_ you fretting.”

“I am not fretting! Oh - oh dear. Ah, good evening, my dear.”

“Pfft. Sure sounds like fretting to me.”

“Oh? And pray tell, what _exactly_ does fretting sound like?”  
  
  


“Like wot you sound like right now. You’re all - you know - _fretty_. Come on, then. Out with it.”

“... it’s really nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’m being awfully silly.”

“Yeah? All right then, I guess you won’t mind if I hang up then, eh? If you’ve got nothing to say. And you’re not fretting. And you’re just gonna spend the next few minutes breathing down the phone at me like an angelic stalker.”

“...”

“...”

“... Crowley?”

“Yep?”

“Oh, you... you didn’t hang up.”

“Of _course_ I bloody didn’t! I only get to hear from you once a week, I’m not gonna end the best bit of my lonely existence just because you’re worried about something. You’re always bloody worried about something, you live in a perpetual state of worry - you’re a _worrier_.”

“... Well, I... I’m sorry, did you just say... the best bit?”

“Aziraphale. I haven’t left my flat in weeks. I’m _not_ saying I just lie around the place waiting for your phone call, I’m not saying I look forward to it, and I’m _definitely_ not saying it gives me the will to carry on through the days of endless boredom. Now, are you gonna tell me what’s bothering you, or do I need to bare more of my damned immortal soul?”

“... it’s just that... it’s just that I don’t _understand_ it! We’ve managed to go _centuries_ without seeing one another before, and yet, I find myself at a loose end. It’s as if there’s something missing. As if I’m not whole. Oh, Crowley...”

“You miss me.”

“... I didn’t say that.”

“Didn't need to. We’ve known each other for six thousand years, it was bound to happen sometime. Knew I’d wear you down eventually. That’s what it is, angel. You miss me.”

“Surely not. No, that’s not it. No. Absolutely not.”

“...”

“Well... perhaps... just the _tiniest_ smidge.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Oh, but it doesn’t make any _sense!_ It’s only been a few weeks, I - I shouldn’t feel like this. We’ve always managed before.”

“Mn. Yeah, but. Thing _is_ , all of those centuries apart, it was necessary, wasn’t it? We had our jobs to do. Things to bless, people to tempt. Y’know. Keeping us occupied. But all that nonsense has gone out of the window now. We’re completely free. Free to do whatever the hell we please, whatever we want to do - to be _with_ whoever we want to be with... and, well, look what we’ve gone and done. We’re so bloody incompetent we don’t even know how to be free.”

“But... that’s not... what about the lockdown? That seems a jolly good reason to stay apart! It’s the rules.”

“Pah. Doesn't apply to celestial beings, does it? Those’re human rules, for keeping humans safe. S’not like we can spread anything. _And_ we’d be one household, wouldn’t we, you and me. _And_ we’d never go out on account of the miracles. _And_ I’m a bloody demon who breaks the rules for breakfast. _And_ -”

“All right, yes, thank you, you’ve made your point... oh.”

“What? What ‘oh?’”

“This whole thing, it’s... it’s just ridiculous. We’re being absolutely _ridiculous_ , aren’t we?”

“... _You’re_ being ridiculous.”

“Crowley, stop being pedantic for once in your life and listen, _please_ , I’m trying to - to - oh, I don’t know! I don’t think I can endure this much longer.”

“Careful. You’re gonna lose the bet at this rate.”

“Oh - oh, _sod_ the bet!”

“...”

“...”

“Oooooooh... Angel. You said a _naughty word._ ”

“I - I do apologise. I’m feeling a little frazzled, please forgive me.”

“No, no, don’t apologise. It turned me on, if I’m honest. Say another one. A proper one, go on, say fu-”

“ _Crowley,_ don’t poke fun! We’ve made rather a mess of things, haven’t we?”

“We? What do you mean _we?_ I was ready to come over, you’re the one who made a mess of it. Not me.”

“... A mess has been made. It doesn’t matter who is at fault, Crowley, it only matters how we choose to move on from it.”

“Ehh. S’pose. Might not’ve been _entirely_ one-sided...”

“...”

“...”

“Crowley. I... I miss you, quite terribly.”

“...”

“And, in truth, I think... well... I think, deep down, I knew that being apart from you wouldn’t be enjoyable, and in actual fact, I think I asked you to stay away _because_ of that newfound freedom we both have. I confess that I am absolutely terrified of what might happen if you come over.”

“... what do you mean?”

“...”

“I wouldn’t, I mean _we_ wouldn’t - just be like old times, wouldn’t it? Nothing new, I mean, if you didn’t want.”

“That’s just the problem! I _would_ want.”

“... yeah?”  
  


  
“Oh, my dear, I would want very much indeed.”

“Holy _shit_ \- er - _shitshitshit_ \- I mean. Me too. Me too. Shit. I would want. That. You, I mean. Ff.”

“But.”

“No. No nononono _nooo_. No buts!”

“But what if you... after all of this, after all of these years of - oh, they always say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. What if you find out that I’m... not what you expected.”

“Bollocks. I can say, with complete honesty, that I _know_ you. And I always expect you to be a complete and utter _bastard_ , and you’ve never let me down in that regard.”

“Oh, oh _Crowley._ ”

“...”

“...”

“Bugger this, I’m not doing this over the phone -”

“Crowley, what are you - ?”

“You win. You _win_ , all right? You _always_ win, when I’m concerned. I’m coming. Do me a favour and point the phone away from you so we don’t bang heads.”

“...”

**Schwooooooot - POP!**

“Oh! Dear me! Are you all right? That looked rather uncomfortable, all those - rearranging molecules.”

“M’fine. Stop fussing.”

“...”

“...”

“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“...”

“... Fucking hell, angel, you weren’t kidding about the cake.”

“Ah, yes.... it _is_ a little crowded in here, isn’t it?”

“Crowded? You can’t bloody _move_. What’s that hulking monstrosity over there?”

“Hmm? Oh! That’s not a _hulking monstrosity_ , thank you very much! That’s a _croquembouche_.”

“Jesus Christ. Looks like it’s about to invade the Earth or something, stick a sink plunger on it and you’ve got yourself a bloody Dalek.”

“A what?”

“Ehf. Doesn’ matter. Pop culture reference, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Hmm. I suppose I might have overdone it a little.”

“A little? You said you were _fine_. This isn’t fine. This is - this is the sodding gluttony level of Hell!”

“Well, I... I might have been missing you a tad more than I let on. It was a bit of a void, if I’m honest.”

“A void you filled with cake...? I dunno what to think about that.”

“Well, the less said about what _you_ got up to in my absence, the better. Let’s just say that we both could have improved on our, ah, _healthy coping mechanisms_ , and leave it at that.”

“Gotcha.”

“I’ll just miracle these superfluous cakes to the needy...”

“Good idea. But, er, mind keeping a couple? I wasn’t lying about wanting to watch you eat them.”

“Oh. Oh, _Crowley_.”

“So. Um. So.”

“...”

“I’ve decided. I want to claim the prize, for that quiz I won.”

“Oh, of course. Anything, my dear.”

“I want that kiss. You promised me a kiss, I’m cashing in.”

“Good heavens... you... you want a _kiss?_ ”

“If you’d let me.”

“... I... I think I just might.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Well?”

“ _I’m_ _getting there._ ”

“Do hurry it up, Crowley. I’ve been waiting _weeks_.”

“... Gimme a mo.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, _I’ll_ do it. Come closer.”

“...”

“Oh, that’s... that’s awfully close, isn’t it?”

“... angel.”

“Yes?”

“As it happens, I think... I think I might be a bit terrified too.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s perfectly all right. Would you like to stop? I have a lovely bottle I was keeping for a special occasion, and as luck would have it, Adam seems to have saved it for me. We could always drink that instead? There’s no need for anything to happen.”

  
“I’m not chickening out. I just. Fffffff. Bit bloody scary, isn’t it?”

“It is. But worth it, I should think. Let’s start slowly, shall we? Just a peck. A friendly kiss, that’s all, to see how it feels. We might not even like it, who knows! Would that be all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just a quick one. See how we feel. No pressure.”

“Exactly. Now, just... stay still, and let me...”  
  


  
“...”

“There, now, wasn’t that nice?”

“...”

“I must say, you’ve gone a most fetching colour. I don’t wish to blow my own euphonium - and I do hope I’m not being too bold - but ah, I assume that means that you... enjoyed it?”

“...”

“Oh... oh dear. You didn’t...? Well, ah, we don’t ever have to do it again - yes, that’s - that’s absolutely fine, if you never wanted to kiss again, I would completely understand. Of course, the fact that I enjoyed it is neither here nor there, but if you must know, I enjoyed it very much indeed - but if it’s not your thing, then consider it off the table - in fact, yes, it never even happened at all! We’ll never speak of it again.”

“You idiot.”

“... sorry?”

“You _idiot_. You absolute - you never should’ve kissed me, you’ve gone and fucking done it now, angel.”

“Oh? What have I done?”

“Given me a taste of the apple. You know I don’t do things by half, s’always been my problem. Oh, angel. I’m gonna eat you alive.”

“Dear me, how _promising_.”

“It’s my turn.”

“...”

“...”

_“_ _Oh_.”

“...”

“Oh... that is... rather...”

“...”

“Good _gracious_ me... I never, I never _dreamed_ -”

“Ssssstop talking. Just stop talking. You’re ruining the best day of my life.”

“Mmm... oh... _Crowley..._ ”

“...”

“Oh! _Crowley!_ You fiend.”

“Fffffffuck, I’ve been waiting millennia to get my hands on this arse.”

“Have you, really? Oh my.”

“I’ve had to watch you bending over, and all that damned _wiggling_ , and don’t get me started on you climbing those bloody book ladders and giving me an eyeful - you know _full well_ what you do to me.”

“Well... I might’ve had an _inkling_.”

“You’re a flirt, that’ssss what you are.”

“How _dare_ you. I’ll have you know that I am a perfect gentleman. You on the other hand, have apparently been ogling my bottom for thousands of years - oh, do be gentle with me. It would break my heart to have to smite you.”

“Nngggghhhhhh. _Soft._ ”

“You silly old thing. Are you all right? You’ve gone a little... S-shaped.”

“Sssss... Can’t talk. _Feeling_.”  
  
  


“...”

“...”

“... Well? Don’t leave me on tenterhooks. Do tell. Has my bottom lived up to your expectations?”

“Jesus Christ. As if you can even ask that.”

“It’s not too... ah, plump?”

“Oh, it’s _plump_ all right... it’s perfect. You’re perfect. You already know that, you know everything, stop fishing for compliments.”

“But I do so love to hear you compliment me.”

“Yeah? In that case...”

“Oh! Don’t _pinch._ ”

“Heh heh - Oi! Don’t pinch _me_.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, dear. Oh yes, that is rather lovely isn’t it? I can see why you like it. Now, _I_ would very much like it if you kissed me again.”

“Don’t have to tell me twi - _mmff._ ”

“...”

“You - mm - just a minute - angel -”

“Oh Lord, that thing you do with your tongue. Absolutely sinful.”

“Mmm - wha - _wait_ \- geroff for a sec. Waitwaitwait -”

“Oh, what is it _now?_ Why must you always interrupt me when I’m having such a lovely time?”

“Because you’re bloody _glowing_ , didja know that?! Is that normal? You’re not preparing to smite me are you? You’re not about to go off?”

“Hmm?”

“Angel. Stop - stop nuzzling me like a bloody cat, and listen! You’re glowing like a bloody lightbulb.”

“Oh, would you look at that, so I am.”

“Is that something we need to be concerned about?!”

“I hardly think so, my dear. I am in love. Quite besotted, actually. And currently in the process of being kissed silly. Allow me my little foibles.”

“... Love?”

“Yes.”

“In love.”

“Yes.”

“With me?”

“Who else? You ridiculous creature.”

“Heffffffff. Hfffgghhhh. _Krnk._ ”

“And it seems that kissing you causes me to become deliriously happy. Hence, the ah, glowing, I suppose. I am feeling rather tingly. I’m sure with enough practice, however, it will die down eventually. I would still like to go outside, once the lockdown eases.”

“...”

“...”

“You. Ffff. You. You’re an idiot. This isn’t kissing, angel. This is _snogging._ You’re being snogged.”

“Am I? Oh, how wonderful! Oh, just there. Yes. Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Ack. You’re gonna blind me - where’ve my sunglasses sodded off to?”

“Don’t worry about those. How am I supposed to kiss you with those wretched things on? They’d get in the way. Just close your eyes, if you must do something.”

“Bugger off! I’m not gonna close my eyes on the best day of my life!”

“Well then, stop complaining.”

“...”

“...”

“Fskkkkk. Why’d you tie this bloody thing so tightly? It’s like a sodding chastity belt.”

“Please be careful, Crowley! No, don’t do _that_ \- you’ll _crumple_ it - that’s my favourite bow tie!”

“I’m gonna set it on _fire._ ”

“Don’t you dare. I shall never forgive you. I’ve had this particular one in my possession for over fifty years, and I’m rather fond of it.”

“It’s - it’s doing it on purpose! It’s _evil,_ and it _hates me._ ”

“It can’t possibly hate you, Crowley, it’s an inanimate object. Oh - how on Earth have you managed to tangle it so? Good _Lord._ Are you attempting to strangle me? Is that why you finally came over?”

“Wha - yeah. Yes, that was it, you got me! I wanted to kill you all along, I’ve spent six thousand years plotting your demise, it was all leading up to this one moment, where I come over and get my fingers caught in your bloody bow tie, and we both die of embarrassment!”

“Hmmph. If that is the case, then it was a truly terrible plan, my dear. All those daring rescues, and clandestine meetings, and heartfelt gifts, dear me - what a dreadful ending. No, no, I don’t care for that at all. I had thought you were the happily ever after type.”

“I am! I mean, I’m not! I just - _I’m trying to get the stupid thing off you, you idiot!_ ”

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you are doing abominably. If I was a human, I might have asphyxiated by now.”

“ _You_ bloody do it, then.”

“It’s supposed to be romantic, Crowley. You’re supposed to unravel my bow tie, carefully, perhaps with your teeth -”

_“Ffffffffff?!”_

“- and then you can fold it neatly, reverently, to show how much you care for me - or, oh, I don’t know, you could swing it around, suggestively, if you like. Put on a bit of a show. Set the mood. You _know._ ”

“No, I don’t. I. What. _What._ ”

“Oh, never mind. Just - ah, here - put your fingers here, and with just one small tug - _there_ you are! That wasn’t so hard was it? And ooh, there goes the top button! I’m positively debauched.”

“...”

“Crowley?”

“I just... I just took your bow tie off.”

“Yes.”

“...”

“Are you all right?”

“This is... this is actually happening, isn’t it? Ohhhhh. Fuck. Fuck me.”

“All in good time, my dear.”

“...”

“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean - I’m actually quite content just to - oh, my dear, you’re looking awfully pale, perhaps you ought to sit down?”

“Mn. I’ll be all right. Just. Having a minor breakdown, s’all... You could hold me upright, if you want.”

“... How’s this?”

“Fucking fantastic.”

“Mmm, I agree. There’s something about holding you in my arms... do you think, that is, would another kiss help? I don’t wish to overwhelm you.”

“Gimme.”

“...”

“...”

“Darling... oh, _darling_...”

“We should - we should prob’ly take this somewhere before we both fall over.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the one who’s practically swooning.”

“Can you _blame_ me?”

“I suppose not, I am an exceptionally good kisser. Or, so I’ve been told.”

“What. Wha - who - _who?!_ ”

“Oh, Crowley. I’m only teasing you.”

“That’s it, come here. I’ll show you who’s a good -”

“...”

“...”

“Shall we, oh, shall we, mmm, retire to the bedroom? Just to lie down. It seems one has just spontaneously, and rather fortuitously, relocated to the upstairs flat. I do hope the Ritz doesn’t miss its Honeymoon Suite.”

“Jeeeeeeesus. Fff, yes. Yes. Bedroom. Now.”

“Oh! I’ve left the telephone off the hook, let me just -”

“Allow me.”

“...”

“...”

“... Crowley, that is most assuredly _not_ the telephone.”

“Oops. My bad.”

“I didn’t say you should stop.”

“...”

“I do need to return the receiver to its cradle, though. You’re in the way. Ah, excuse me.”

“...”

“Crowley, please move to the side and remove your hands from my person.”

“Make me.”

“...”

“Holy _shit!_ Angel! Put me _down!_ ”

“You should have moved when I asked you to.”

“Well - _Jesus Christ_ \- you can put me down now! _Ack_ \- you don’t have to - what is this - a _bridal carry?_ ”

“Well, it is the Honeymoon Suite, Crowley. Tradition dictates that I carry you over the threshold. Now, stop squirming, or I shall drop you.”

“Can’t fuckin’ help it! I’m living out all my fantasies at once. My body’s rejecting the euphoria, it thinks I’m _dying._ Am I dying? Is this the afterlife?”

“If it is, I would be honoured to spend my eternity with you.”

“...”

“Crowley? Oh dear. Have you fainted? Crowley? Oh, Heavens.”

“... I’m having a moment.”

“Thank goodness. I was about to run you under a cold tap to revive you.”

“Don’t you fucking try it.”

“Well, seeing as you’re not unconscious, would you be a dear and pop the phone back on our way past? My hands are, quite gloriously, full of melodramatic demon.”

“...”

“Oh! I’ve just had a wonderful thought, my dear! While you’re here, you can model your new outfit for me before the big event!”

“... wha? What are you talking about?”

“Your outfit, for the magic show.”

“ _Wot._ ”

“After all, I think you’ll find, that _you_ lost the bet. The stipulations were quite clear.”

“I didn’t - I didn’t lose! You said _sod_ the bet! You said -”

“Don't be absurd, why on earth would I say that? No no, I am quite certain that the bet was still in place when you broke the rules and travelled here by telephone. Dear, oh dear. You are in a pickle, hmm? Still! Not to worry, old chap! I’m sure you’ll look simply _ravishing_.”

“No, no way. I’m not dressing up! No no no _nononooo_.”

“Oh, darling, the children will be delighted!”

“ _Aziraphale._ ”

“Tee hee hee!”

_Dial tone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I made just one person laugh during this lockdown, then this story was absolutely worth it <3
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hotcrosspigeon)


	8. Bonus!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, England’s going into another lockdown. Hooray. 
> 
> But do you know what that means?
> 
> It’s time to check in with a certain angel and demon! ;)
> 
> (This is just pure self-indulgent fluff. I hope it makes you smile.)

“Oh dear. Oh, good gracious me. Crowley. _Crowley?_ Confound you. Wake up!”

“ _Mffghhhhh_.”

“Darling, please don’t try to suffocate yourself with my tummy. It’s dreadfully rude.”

“Mn... Whaaaaat.”

“Would you kindly stop drooling and open your eyes for me? There’s a good chap.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“It’s really rather important. Please.”

“Ungh... ssssstill dark out.”

“Yes. I’m terribly sorry for waking you, but I’ve just perused this morning’s paper, and you’ll never _believe_ what it said!”

“... go on then, what is it.”

“Haven’t you heard the news?”

“... no. No, angel I have not _heard the news._ Up until three minutes ago, I was asleep. Wasn’t I. And you woke me up.”

“Well! It turns out...”

“ _Wot._ ”

“We’re going to be placed under _another_ lockdown!”

“...”

“Crowley? Did you hear me? I said -”

“I heard you... You really woke me up to tell me _that_?”

“Of course! It’s imperative that you know! We really should have tuned in to the wireless! Keep up to date on such matters. Dear, dear. We shall both have to stay inside, for the immediate future. Don’t even _think_ about venturing out to spread any demonic mischief!”

“Angel...”

“Yes?”

“We haven’t left the bookshop since the last lockdown.”

“Oh... haven’t we?”

“Nope. We haven’t even left the _bed_.”

“... dear me, you’re absolutely right. Good heavens. I hadn’t realised.”

“The only demonic mischief I’ve got up to, recently, has been within the confines of this mattress. And you’ve been privy to all of it.”

“And very lovely it was too.”

“Fssssskkkk. So. Another lockdown isn’t really a hardship for us, is it?”

“I suppose not. Still, I _do_ hope the humans are all right.”

“Eh. They’re a resilient lot.”

“Hmm. Well. Perhaps I ought to _check_ on them, just to see...”

“No.”

“But -”

“ _Lockdown_ remember? Rules to abide by. Can’t leave the bed - er, I mean _bookshop_. Besides... you’re keeping my feet warm.”

“Is that the only reason you wish for me to remain here?”

“Ehhfff. Not the _only_ reason, just one of the main ones.”

“Crowley. I’m not your personal heater, you know - I am an _Angel of the Lord_ , and my God given duties do not include warming up your icy serpentine toes!”

“They _doooo_. ‘Course they bloody do. Most important bit of the job that, keeping me warm. Anyway. You’re on our side now, got different duties.”

“Really? I can’t recall having signed any documentation as to my new _duties_.”

“Pfft, that’s what _you_ think.”

“What do you - oh no, do you mean to say - it was that subscription to _pocket watch weekly_ wasn’t it? Crowley! I _knew_ that was awfully suspicious! You _didn’t_ -”

“Yup.”

“You - you dastardly cad!”

“Ta. Anyway. Got your signature now. It’s binding.”

“Crowley, what on Earth did you get me to sign?”

“We-elll, I can tell you one thing for certain, it definitely mentioned letting me warm my toes under your lovely thighs.”

“... Did it, indeed?”

“Yep.”

“So that’s all the use I am to you, is it? A toe-warmer?”

“Hardly. You’re soft too. And cuddly. Like one of them boyfriend pillows.”

“Good Lord... I should have known better than to shack up with a denizen of Hell... _Boyfriend?_ Good Heavens, no. What a frightfully ghastly term.”

“Just the name of the pillow, angel. S’not what we are. No words for what we are. No English ones anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t know... I can think of a couple. I always admired the term _sweethearts_.”  
  


  
“Pfff. You would.”

“Well. Whatever we are, I’m _disgustingly_ happy about it.”

“Me too. You know... I reckon another apocalypse could happen, and I wouldn’t even mind. I’d just stay right here with you, in those ridiculous pyjamas. Could die happy.”

“... they’re not _ridiculous_.”

“They fucking _are_.”

“They’re exceedingly comfy. And very practical. You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?!”

“Yes.”

“Angel. I don’t think you can even call them pyjamas, I think that’s being too generous - what you’re currently wearing would be more accurately described as _long johns_.”

“Your point being?”

“They have a _flap_.”

“For ease of access, yes.”

“Ease of access? _Ease of_ \- what possible use could an angel gave for a bloody _bum flap?_ ”

“Well, _apparently_ , it can be used as a demonic hand warmer. Crowley, get your hand out of there.”

“Mmf. Shouldn’t have such easy access.”

“ _Crowley!_ ”

“Shh. Can’t talk. _Fondling_.”

“Do you _mind_.”

“No. Obviously not. Fffffff. Fuck me. This is wonderful.”

“You silly old thing. Unhand my bottom, at once.”

“It’s like it was made to fit in my hands.”

“Gosh, you do say the most absurd things... now let me go, I shall have to get up eventually!”

“No.”

“Yes, dear. It’s inevitable.”

“ _Nooooo._ ”

“Don’t cling, you wretched serpent.”

“I’m trying to strangle you so that you lose consciousness.”

“Really? Because I would call this more of an embrace. Around the bottom area. Hardly conducive to strangulation, my darling.”

“Don’t you _my darling_ me. I’m evil. This isn’t an embrace, I’m trying to squish the life out of you.”

“Oh, of course you are, yes, my apologies.”

“...”

“...”

“Don’t _pet_ me.”

“I’m not, I’m vanquishing you.”

“How’s that then?”

“Well, look at you, you’ve gone all... mushy. Pliant.”

“ _Sssss_.”

“You’ve left yourself vulnerable to attack.”

“Psh, yeah? Like to see you try.”

“Oh, you would?”

“... er, on second thoughts, no.”

“...”

“No, angel, no! Don’t look at me like _that_!”

“Oh, dear me. What’s this?”

“No, _please_ don’t -”

“Why, bless my bum flap, it’s the _tickle monster!_ ”

“Aziraphale I swear to Sssatan, _don’t ever say that again._ ”

“Tickly tickly tickly!”

“No! Bugger off!”

“You brought this upon yourself, you vile and despicable creature! Surrender to the tickles!”

“Angel - ahhh, _haha!_ Noooo! STOP IT! _STOP IT!_ ”

“Tee hee hee!”

“GET AWAY FROM ME -”

“Tickly tickly!”

“AZIRAPHALE! Sssstop, I’ll be needing that bloody flap in a minute - hehheh - geroff! GET _OFF!_ ”

“- _oof!”_

“...”

“...”

“... angel?”

“ _Ow_...”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! What did I do? Aziraphale?”

“... You kicked be in the _bose_.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Owww.”

“Don’t poke at it! It’s your own bloody fault! You shouldn’t have tickled me!”

“I dhink it’s brokeb.”

“No it’s not! It’s not!”

“Ah. Oh. Oh bo. Oh dear.”

“Let me see!”

“... bo. You’be dub quite ebough, dhank you.”

“Don’t talk, you sound awful. Let me _see._ ”

“Go _away_.”

“Angel.... I’m sorry, okay? Let me - let me just -”

“Ha!”

“- _Ack!_ ”

“I _fooled_ you with my clever ruse! There’s no escape from the tickle monster, now! Vengeance shall be mine!”

“You bastard! You - ahhhh! Haha hahaha! _No!_ I can’t believe I fell for - hehe! Haha! _Get off!_ ”

“I shan’t, not until you say it.”

“Sod off!”

“Say it, my dear, or the torture will continue. There’s no end to my depravity!”

“Never! Ssssstop, stop, _heh heh!_ ”

“Say it!”

“Haha haha - no - I’ll never - never - _tehe_ \- Aziraphale, _stop_ -”

“Say it, demon!”

“Tartan is... tartan is... _heh heh!_ ”

“Yes?”

“ _Stylish!”_

“...”

“...”

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“... I heh... I _hate_ you.”

“Well, by a startling coincidence, I love you. Very much indeed.”

“You - you can’t just - _nghhhh_... shut up.”

“Darling, while that was really ripping, _terrific_ fun... how about we get under the covers now, hmm? Awfully nippy out here, isn’t it? I bet your poor feet are positively freezing.”

“...”

“And it just so happens that I have these... _lovely warm thighs_... and wouldn’t you know? They’re going to waste. Such a shame. Don’t you think?”

“You... fffff. Fine. I’ll get you back though. When you least expect it.”

“Gosh, I _do_ hope so.”

“...”

“...”

“Wot. What you _wiggling_ about now.”

“Oh, it’s just... your chin is ever so pointy.”

“All right, _all right,_ I’m moving...”

“If you could just - tuck your head under - oh, that’s lovely.”

“Better?”

“Oh _much_ improved, yes. I do believe I could hold you forever like this and be quite content.”

“...”

“...”

“... feelin’s mutual, you soppy git.”

“...”

“...”

“Let’s sleep in, shall we?”

“Yeah. Want me to set an alarm?”

“Yes, please. I was thinking... December. Just in time for Christmas. What do you think?”

“Mffgghh. Sounds good to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had this visceral need for Aziraphale to say the phrase ‘bless my bum flap.’ 
> 
> Tehehe.
> 
> It’s been a rough few days. Hope you’re all keeping safe, my dears <3


End file.
